Isolation
by Kentra02
Summary: Quatre deals with anorexia. 2+4+2, angst, OOC-ness I guess...
1. Part One

Author: Kentra Shinataku  
Pairings: 2+4  
Category: Angst, Romance?   
Rating: PG-13, might get to R.  
Spoilers: None for now  
Warnings: Anorexia, Quatre POV, angst,  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, I only own the thoughts in my head which cause these crazy works of fan fiction to magically reproduce from my fingertips.   
Thanks to Abi for being such a great beta reader even though I hassle her so much! ::Big huggles to Abi::  
  
Isolation: Part One  
  
Disgusting. Absolutely and purely disgusting. The numbers staring back at me don't lie. I wish they would, because then I wouldn't see that I weigh 97 pounds. That's two more than yesterday. What have I eaten to gain those two numbers in so little time, the two numbers I had worked so hard to lose? I ate cereal this morning. Not much, just enough to keep my stomach from growling so the others wouldn't hear. But that was 150 calories. And what about that popsicle that Duo nearly forced down my throat? When he wasn't watching, later on, I dug the wrapped from the garbage can. 210 calories. Was that enough to add on two pounds? Stupid, of course it is, especially when you're fat. Funny, when I lost the two pounds from 97 to 95, it wasn't very much... it wasn't _enough_. But when it came back, it became so much more. I don't understand.  
  
I fling the door open after clearing the scale and head to my bedroom to grab my running shoes. I lace them tightly, knowing that I'll have no time to stop with the workout that I've got planned for myself. I jog in place for a minute while pulling a red sweatshirt over my head. I need all the physical movement I can get; fat doesn't go away on its own.   
  
I jog all the way to the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water before turning the kitchen doorknob.  
  
"Where are you going?" The voice seems to come from no where, but as I turn around, I realize that Duo's sitting underneath the kitchen table, apparently for somebody to walk into his socialization trap.  
  
"Just on a walk," I reply nonchalantly.  
  
"Can I come?" he asks seriously. Do you have to? That's what I'd _like_ to say. Instead, I smile what I hope is warmly and offer,  
  
"If you'd like."  
  
Much to my disappointment, he actually stands and walks with me out the door. Looks like this is going to be a waste of time; there's no way he'll want to run with me. I'll just have to go out again later, and make sure nobody is watching when I leave. I really need the exercise.  
  
"Geez, Quatre, how can you wear a sweatshirt in this heat? It's like 6,000 degrees out here!" Duo remarks as he pulls off his own long sleeve shirt, leaving him in his black beater. The black clothing and pale skin contrast smoothly, and I find myself admiring Duo's body. Why can't I have a body like that? He's so thin and gorgeous without even trying, yet I try as hard as I can and I'm still.... _repulsive_.  
  
"I don't know, I get cold easily," I say, shrugging off the question. It's an understatement, though. I don't even remember what it's _like_ to feel warm. Duo's '6,000 degrees' is really only about 80, but to me it feels like 45.  
  
"That's because you've got no meat on those bones."  
  
I knew that was coming. He _always_ underestimates my eight. I probably weigh more than he does. Why doesn't he bother Trowa, who is _much_ thinner than me? So is Heero. And Wufei. What a feeling-- me, the fat one of the Gundam pilots, what a wonderful reputation. I bet it will follow me throughout time, in school history books in the future.  
  
"I have plenty of fat on my body, Duo."  
  
He lets it drop here, because he obviously knows by now that I won't listen to him. Why should I? He's lying. So much for his little motto of never telling a lie. Does he think I can't see the truth by looking in the mirror?  
  
We head into the park, due to Duo's frequent complaints about needing shade since his braid is sticking to his neck. After only a few minutes, I realize what a mistake this is, because there's an ice cream stand on the path only a little bit ahead.  
  
"Hey Quat, want some ice cream? My treat," Duo says, flashing me one of those devious grins. I look at the stand, watching as the salesman hands a customer a double scooped chocolate cone, and get a sick feeling just thinking about putting something like _that_ inside of me.  
  
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," I say with a smile, and hope that he doesn't try the same tricks he did with that popsicle earlier. I refuse to gain another pound out of stupidity and lack of control today. His brows knit together; apparently his mind is thinking of more than he lets himself say.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
I nod, and he walks over to buy some for himself while I lean my elbows against the marble ledge of the fountain and divert my attention to the splashing water. I try not to think about anything else, but lately my mind has been so unfocused. In the past, I would have been able to read a book without any distraction, but anymore, I constantly feel as if I'm in Sandrock fighting down hundreds of mobile dolls on my own. My thoughts are so scattered that things of high priority are brushed aside to worry about something as trivial as organizing the kitchen shelves.   
  
But not too scattered to ignore the electrical sensation of fingers brushing across my spine. I tense automatically, hoping that my mind can narrow enough to act naturally. The hand jerks back instantly, and the expression on Duo's face is hurt, rather than the amused smile I thought would be there. I can tell he's thinking about something important, so obviously he's got the opposite problem as me; one thought takes up all of his attention.  
  
"Sorry..." he mutters, avoiding my eyes.  
  
"It's alright, you just startled me. That's all," I return. Honestly, I don't mind his touch, I actually welcome it, basking in the rays of warmth it sparks inside of me. But my back is vulnerable, it bothers me a bit when I'm touched there. I don't even like it when something inanimate presses against it, like the back of a chair. There must be some sort of abnormality in my bone structure, because they always seem to dig into things when I lean against them.  
  
I watch as he swirls his tongue into the soft, whipped strawberry ice cream, and for a moment, I hate him. To be able to eat something like that without a single thought or doubt and _still_ maintain that sort of figure would be a dream come true. I hate him for how he looks; I hate him for his carefree attitude on everything, but especially food. I even hate him for his sanity. However, my hate lasts only a few seconds, because I could never hate the beauty that is Duo Maxwell. It's my own fault for being overweight in the first place, I won't blame _him_ for what I brought upon myself. It isn't my fault that I can't grant myself the satisfaction of a full stomach. He deserves to enjoy what he can in life.  
  
He seems to study me as he eats. Maybe he's tempting me. I pretend to ignore it; I won't give into him that easily. He won't get me to eat one more bite today, I swear it. There is something so tantalizing about the way he eats, and I don't mean sensually. I just wish I could share in the pleasure of taste, smoothe strawberries gliding against my tongue in a soft sacrifice to my taste buds. I want to taste.  
  
+  
  
We walk in the door together and Duo stretches as if that slight amount of exercise was actually tiring in the least bit. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but only because I know Duo can't really be tired out. From what he's told me of his childhood, he's done a lot of running. That's one of the reasons that he's so thin, maybe if I'd just realize that, I wouldn't be so jealous of his body. But I would have thought that he would have a little more extra skin after he started eating regular meals. I guess some people are just lucky.  
  
The smell of vegetables cooking interrupts my thoughts and for the first time I notice that Wufei is cooking at the stove. See what I mean, my unfocused mind? Noticing somebody's presence in a room should be a given, but for me it's just another obstacle that needs pondered, thought about, worried about. Wufei, however, isn't making any indication that he acknowledges _our_ presence, but that's just how he is.   
  
I walk over to see what he's cooking since I'll probably have it shoved down my throat later on anyways. It's not that Wufei's cooking is bad, actually I prefer the taste of it more than most of the things the other pilots cook, it's just that Chinese food is so... _fattening_.  
  
I peer into the various simmering pans and from looking at them I have produced absolutely no idea what he's making. Useful. I notice that a bit of irritation glinted across his figure when I leaned over his shoulder, so I move to his right and pick up a bottle that he had just poured into the pan on the front burner. I don't know what it is, but I read the label anyways. Luckily, it's not in Chinese, or else I wouldn't be able to see that one serving is 90 calories. I stare at the label, then the pan, and back to the label again. No thank you, I will not be eating dinner tonight.  
  
"Winner, what _are_ you doing?" Wufei demands in annoyance. I merely look at him and set the bottle back down.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
With a smile that even I can tell doesn't meet my eyes, I wander down the hallway and up the stairs at the very end and enter the wing of the house that Duo and I are sharing. Wufei and Heero are living in the opposite wing and Trowa in a guest room in the basement. Duo complains that this house is too big. I can understand how he feels so, but it doesn't bother me. Then again, I'm used to places like this. He never understands when I tell him that his home was bigger than mine; there are no limits to the streets, but walls always confine me.  
  
Once in my bedroom, I kick off my shoes and throw off my shirts into a heap on the bed. I walk into the bathroom that connects Duo's room to my own and stare into the surrounding mirrors. It reminds me of a ballet room. I can see myself from every angle, and for that, I hate myself. I watch in fascination while I roll my shoulders forward highlighting every ridge of my ribs through the skin of my back and outlining my jutting shoulder blades. The nubs of my spine seem to sticking out farther than I remember, but I know that if anything, they've only gained another layer over them after the extra weight I've put on. I turn my head to focus on my stomach. My fat still covers whatever muscle I have hidden beneath the surface, much to my disappointment. I'm going to do extra sit-ups tonight. I can see the angle of my ribs underneath my skin, and against my prior experience, I press the top of my left index finger between two of the bones. I flinch at the sensation of awkward pain as it jolts through my chest. My stomach disgusts me, its curves sticking out in pudgy angles. Why do I have to look like this? I can't stand being this repulsive! I turn my head to examine the rest of my body when, with a sick feeling, my eyes fall upon Duo's figure in the open doorway. What was I thinking, forgetting to close the door?  
  
"You finished examining yourself yet?" 


	2. Part Two

Title: Isolation  
  
Author: Kentra Shinataku  
  
Anime: Gundam Wing  
  
Pairings: 2+4/4+2  
  
Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.  
  
Category: Angst, Romance  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Not at the moment.  
  
Warning: Anorexia, mild OOC, Quatre POV, angst  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my notebooks, pens, and computer.  
  
**********  
  
Isolation: Part Two  
  
"I'm sorry, Duo, do you need to use the bathroom?" I ask, putting on my friendly mask once again, although I know it's too late, he's already seen me defenseless.  
  
"No Quatre," he comments quietly, playing along with my pretense. Or maybe he isn't only playing. "Wufei said that dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so you should come down."  
  
"That's alright, but thank you for telling me. I'm not hungry."  
  
"That's what you said when I offered you ice cream," Duo shoots back, "and lunch," he bites his lower lip, piecing too much together, "Please, just come down."  
  
I resist the urge to scowl into the mirrors that are surrounding me as I disappear into my own room and grab my baggy red t-shirt from the floor. Slipping it over my head, I retreat again to the bathroom to brush my teeth and find that Duo is still leaning in the doorway, obviously intent not to let me escape from the food that I know they are going to force down my throat. I don't need anymore of that shit taking up space in my stomach, there's already too much in there now. But Duo is giving me that _look_ of his, that look that I can't deny with a clean conscience, and I reluctantly follow down the stairs and to the dining room.   
  
The distinct aroma of Chinese food is teasing my nostrils, tempting me to ruin my body even more than I already have. Maybe if I just eat a little.... No. I've already had a disgusting amount of food today.  
  
"Nice to see you attending a meal, Quatre," Wufei comments, donning a small smirk on his lips as if he's dying to yell 'I know something I shouldn't!' and if I didn't know his high sense of dignity, he probably would.  
  
"I like my privacy, I usually eat alone."  
  
Duo seats himself next to me at the white clothed table and picks up the utensils next to the floral plate.  
  
"Dammit, Wu, chopsticks? You know I can't eat with these annoying things!" he exclaims with one of his many grins on his face, one of those grins that nobody else could possibly pull off.  
  
"I cooked, I prefer chopsticks. It you want a fork, go to the kitchen and get one yourself," Wufei states calmly, his eyes smiling unwillingly towards the visual complaint. He and Duo frequent trivial arguments but they are actually very close friends. I even thought they were lovers, until my curiosity got the better of me and I asked Duo.  
  
Grumbling, Duo stands, turning to head toward the kitchen, but I stop him.  
  
"I'll get you a fork, Duo, I'm going to the kitchen to get some water anyways." Duo shrugs and sits back in his seat before flicking a grain of rice so that it lands on Wufei's nose. He's crazy, Wufei's going to flip on him, and I hear him begin as I close the French style doors behind me. Usually, this would make me smile, today my mind is far too near the edge, far too scattered. I feel like my thoughts are going to take over and control me, I can't hear over my mind, it's all so overwhelming, suffocating. And suddenly, it stops.  
  
I blink when I realize I'm in the kitchen. Why am I here? Oh, water! I reach into the fridge and grab a cold bottle before looking around. The water is all I came in here for, right? I bite my lower lip, knowing there was something that I couldn't quite grasp. Oh well, I'll think of it later; It's probably not important. Turning down the hallway, I head towards my bedroom, I think that's where I just came from. I remember now, I was going to exercise.  
  
I pop the cap of the water bottle and take a sip before setting it on the dresser where my radio is. I don't bother to replace the lid. My finger lands on a small, red button and weighs down upon it, allowing the flashing lights on the face of the radio to spring to life. And old pop song is playing, a perfect beat to match the fall of my footsteps with. This is not music I'd typically listen to- the loud female voice sounds as if she just sucked helium from a party balloon- but the background music was created with old fashioned synthesizers that carry a lot of rhythm, even if it sounds as if it came from pre-colony times.   
  
I lift my feet, one at a time and begin to jog in place, though I feel sluggish at first, a sure sign I haven't been working myself hard enough. It's about 6:30 p.m., according to my wrist watch, and apart from the leisurely stroll with Duo, I hadn't exercised since last night. I shouldn't have been slacking off like this, things like this are what make me gain weight.  
  
97 pounds. I hate myself.  
  
I barely notice that my feet pick up tempo, instinctively changing with the beat of the next song. This one sounds pre-colony also; I wonder what station this is, I don't remember turning it on. My breath catches slightly and I first realize that there is a sharp pain biting into my side. Dropping to the floor, I lie on my back and continue the workout segment with sit-ups. I do a lot of these, they can compact my stomach fat into muscle. Though obviously it isn't very productive since I've gained weight. Wufei says muscle weighs more than fat, but since I don't have a lot of muscle, I can't use that as an excuse, now can I?  
  
The song changes again, confirming my ideas that this is indeed a pre-colony station, but I recognize this next song. Duo listens to it. It's by a band called Chevelle, a CD that I so often borrow from his CD case to work out to, it's a wonder that he hasn't noticed. The only thing wrong with this music is the inexplicable feeling of loneliness it pangs inside of me. I stand up and begin to run in place again. Besides loneliness, this music hits me with a surge of energy and power... and anger. My feet move faster and pound against the floor harder, and I do nothing to stop this familiar unreproached madness from running its course. The lyrics to this song are ones I recognize, ones that hurt me in a way no one will see. They don't understand, but I want someone to care. Before I even realize it, I'm singing the song softly to myself.  
  
"You used to beg me to take care of things,  
  
And smile at the thought of me failing,  
  
But long before having hurt,  
  
I'd send the pain below,"  
  
My limbs ache with the amount of force I'm throwing into them, willing them to match the beat and words of the song. Is that what Duo feels when he becomes Shinigami, this undying angry adrenaline?  
  
"I'd send the pain below much like suffocating.  
  
Much like suffocating,"  
  
Suffocating. That's what I feel like sometimes. Everything seems to close in around me, like everyone is staring at me, disapproving looks in their eyes like I'm too disgusting for them to look at. If I'm so damn ugly, why do they still stare at me? Is it too hard to tear your eyes from someone so hideous? Maybe it's really my thoughts that close in on me, settle me in a little box and wrap their seductive fingers around my neck. Those thoughts, the very ones that occupy my mind as a mere distraction, are killing me slowly. I wish they'd just do it and get it over with.  
  
"You used to run me away,  
  
All while laughing,  
  
Then cry about the fact  
  
til I returned."  
  
Something feels wrong, like there's something I'm supposed to be doing right now. I wish my mind wasn't so scattered. I think Duo said something about dinner, but I wasn't really paying that much attention. It looks like I'm thankfully getting out of it though, so I just keep running, almost as if I'm running away from my life.  
  
"Much like suffocating,  
  
I can't feel my chest,  
  
Need more, Drop Down,  
  
Closing in."  
  
It takes me a few moments before I realize there is another voice singing and it's neither mine nor the voices on the radio. Instantaneously, I look to the direction it's coming from, my bedroom door where Duo is standing looking less than pleased. Something pulls on the corners of my mind, I _knew_I was supposed to be doing something else, but even now I don't know what.  
  
"Be right back, huh?" he asks me, trying hard to fit a devious smirk over his concerned expression, but to no avail, and he holds up a fork. With a sudden pang I know what that little something that had been nagging at my mind was.  
  
"I'm sorry, I forgot about bringing that to you," I murmur, trying to avoid his eyes. I know why he's here, I know he's upset with me.   
  
"Quatre." Just my simple name spoken from his lips sounds like a curse. I must disgust him as much as I disgust myself. He inches slowly toward me, as if he needs to approach with caution. "Why don't you come finish dinner with us?" he says quietly, his tone not quite matching the formal invitation.  
  
"I-I forgot..."  
  
"Quatre..."  
  
"I'm not... I'm not hungry." I wish he would just leave me alone, I wish he wouldn't try to make me eat.  
  
"Please..."  
  
"Duo... I..."  
  
"You need to eat..." His eyes are scaring me, there are so many emotions coming from him, fear concern, and something else, something that runs deeper.  
  
"I don't..."  
  
"You..."  
  
Suddenly, I realize that his lips are pressing against mine.  
  
********** 


	3. Part Three

Title: Isolation   
  
Author: Kentra Shinataku   
  
Pairings: 2+4   
  
Warnings: angst, anorexia, mild OOC, Quatre POV   
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
Summary: Quatre deals with anorexia, but will he realize that Duo is there to help all along?   
  
**********  
  
Isolation: Part Three  
  
What the hell is going on? Does he know what he's doing? Does he know his arms are wrapped around a boy who should disgust him? As much as it hurts me to do this, I pull away, letting him see the eyes of the boy he just kissed. I wanted it, but I had to know that he was sure, that he wanted this to be _me_, not somebody else.  
  
"Duo..." I whisper in a shaky voice, not pulling from the loose grasp his fingertips ghost on my back, "is this really what you want?"  
  
He blinks as if confused, but doesn't look hurt. He's always been good at hiding the pain, though, so I can't be certain.  
  
"If I didn't want it, would I have done it?" His eyes are searching mine, and instead of a laughing tone, he is very serious.  
  
"But I'm..." I'm aware that my eyes are wide. I think he expected me to back down. He's surprised when my hands settle on the crevices of his hips. Something seems to relax in the both of us at once and I lift my face nearer to his. We're close in height, with me less than an inch shorter than him, but in this moment he seems to grow over me and I forget all else. The raging voices inside me are quieted for the first time in months with the lips that brush across mine, luring me into their tender embrace to feel what I've been longing for. I don't question him this time; he knows who I am and I know he wants this, all I do is feel, taking him all in. He doesn't push me too far, doesn't break the delicate friction singing between us, our lips pressing, our fingers trickling like water over one another's bodies. It's one of those moments where you're lost, numb-- but a good numb-- time stops but the world around you is still moving, spinning. And although it seems to last forever, it ends in a heartbeat.   
  
He searches my face, now parted from his, and as if what is happening now is the most normal and familiar thing, he wraps tightly around me, his face against my shoulder.  
  
"I'm worried about you," he breathes.  
  
"You don't have to be."  
  
I loosen my fingers from the grip they were digging into his skin. I hadn't even realized how tightly I was clinging to him, not wanting the light at the end of the tunnel to disappear as soon as it had come. He peers at me, as if I am now the one who has inched taller, and the light radiating from his eyes fills me completely, drinking me in. Something inside him flickers and I can practically see that his mind has found a problem.  
  
"I've got to help Wufei with the dishes," he says cautiously, "but I'll come straight back up as soon as I'm done, okay?"  
  
I really don't want to let him out of my sight, don't want to wake up from this dream world I've got myself blindly lodged in, but he unfurls himself from my clenched arms and heads towards the doorway. Letting a hand trail across the wood of the door frame, he pauses on the way out, looking back to me.  
  
"Wait in my room, I think I need to tell you some things."  
  
I answer with only a nod and a warm smile, watching intently the grace he emanates so carelessly while he leaves to return to the kitchen. It finally registers to me after a few moments of gawking after him that I'm supposed to be waiting in his room. Closing my eyes through our adjoined bathroom passage, I grope blindly for the handle to his doorway. I refuse to face the mocking of the mirrors in a moment like this. Once I hear the reassuring click behind me, I blink the world back into focus, adjusting to the lighter hues in the bedroom that Duo is camping out in. For a moment, I have to remember why I came in here, but it doesn't take me long.  
  
I might as well sit down, though his bed is neatly made and I doubt he'd appreciate the mess I may make of it. Well, I'll remake it for him.  
  
I've never spent more than a minute or two in his room before, and that was only to borrow a CD. I've never actually been invited inside, though technically I own this house, or my name does anyways. I don't let that idea rule me though; just because I "own" it doesn't mean it's mine to plunder.   
  
The room looks like it is intended for a young girl, a child really. The walls are a light cream color, trimmed in baby pink and the two windows and bed are dressed in a faint, aged yellow lace. There is a dresser facing the bed, also with a cloth of the same lace draping it, and a three piece mirror in a brass frame. The only sign of a masculine persona occupying the room is the dirty black duffel bag peeking from under the bed and a pair of muddy black tennis shoes thrown haphazardly in the opened closet.   
  
I know why he chose this room, though. There were two bedrooms left when he and Wufei returned from their mission. He left the more masculine bedroom to Wufei so that he would be happier. They have a beautiful friendship beneath the petty, short lived arguments they frequently engage in. On another day, I would envy it, but minutes ago, it was _me_ in Duo's arms, being able to cling to someone for the very first time. The perfect body of his fit perfectly against mine, making _me_ feel perfect. I don't understand how being with someone as beautiful as him can make someone as repulsive as me feel good about myself. It's such a foreign feeling.   
  
There are various possessions lying idle on the stand next to Duo's bed. The nightstand itself is a pale off white, like the other furniture and doors, with cracked brass handles to match the mirror frame. Another lace cover is splayed over it, displaying items that Duo could throw into his duffel bag in a hurry. It surprises me that they are laid out, though, because these are some of his prized treasures.   
  
There is a black plastic hair brush, which is cheap and easily replaceable, but as a Gundam pilot, he wouldn't have much time to run to a convenience store. Without a brush for his hair, he'd have a tangled mess until he had a chance to find another, meaning that his hair brush was of great value to him.   
  
Also, there is his CD case and walkman. Like it is to me, music is of great importance to him, though I prefer classical over his louder, more soul numbing kind. I pick up the case and leaf through the booklet, passing the familiar names; Chevelle, Hoobastank, Evanescence, 3Doors Down, Nickelback. Those are his favorites, but there is an entire variety lying farther back. Eminem, Dream, Avril Lavigne, and even soundtracks from old movies like Chicago, Moulin Rouge, and Lord of the Rings. Duo has the widest musical taste I've ever seen.  
  
I set the case back down and reach out to touch a little figure that is propped atop a black hat. It is a little stuffed bat, sewn of mismatching scraps of quilting material, a round blue button for the left eye, and a triangular, yellow one for the right. A smile is embroidered in red thread, but was pulled loose at some point, causing three loops and a trailing centimeter of thread on the right side. All colors of stains mark it, showing me what it's been through.  
  
I pick it up, cradling it in my palm as if it's sewn of crystal and not dirty scraps. I know Duo wouldn't have a stuffed toy for no reason; to him it probably _is_ crystal. I can't help but wonder what emotional attachment this holds over him.   
  
The black hat that it was posed on top of makes me wonder the same thing. He wears it every once in a while, usually on missions, but it's old and worn, thin nearly to holes in some areas, and definitely carries the stains of time. The other thing I've noticed, from the times I've seen it on him, is that it's too big for him. It must have belonged to someone else before him. I lay the bat beside me on the bed and delicately finger the oversized hat, turning it over in my hands. I look for a name inscription, any remnant of history, but find nothing. It's really none of my business, I know, but I can't control my curiosity.   
  
Glancing over at the treasure covered nightstand, I see something that had been guarded by both the bat and the hat, a small, pocket-sized, leather book. It was bound with real leather, though scratched and scuffed, another aged possession. He really doesn't own anything new, I realize with a pang of guilt. I know that he lived on the streets and that with our current occupation we aren't able to keep much, but so many of these places we stay are big and expensive. And owned in my name. He's lived eating from garbage cans while I was asleep with two quilts and a matress. How can he stand to stay here knowing that I was raised this way while he had nothing? If I were him, there would be a bit of animosity between us.  
  
My attention strays back to the leather book, and I give it a closer inspection. Stamped across the bottom in gold calligraphy letters is written 'Diary'. Etched in with a sharp tool says 'Duo's' in front of it. The added name is clearly written in a child's hand, I can tell just by looking. I don't dare touch it, it holds _his_ memories. I hear footsteps moving on the stairwell and hurriedly replace the hat, and then the stuffed bat over the diary before Duo sees that I've been intruding in his things.  
  
********** 


End file.
